


Messe Noire

by cyndrarae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bondage, Consensual Kink, M/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficathon prompt: “Sam gets captured during a hunt, stripped naked and tied to a table for sacrifice.”  Dean/Sam established relationship. Set during/before S3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Messe Noire

**Author's Note:**

> Not intended to offend anyone's religious sentiments. Of course if you're in the SPN fandom still, I'm sure your religious sentiments are sturdy enough to not get offended by now. The description of a Black Mass is in the public domain.

********

“Dean…”

Sam struggled against his bonds, feeling the strain in his limbs restrained for close to about an hour now. Human legs simply weren’t meant to be spread so far apart for so long, it hurt damn it. 

Sam whined in his best puppy voice. “Dean, please…”

His skin crawled as the cool air circulating in the gothic-styled room slithered all over his naked body, yet he couldn’t stop sweating. How long was Dean going to stay pissed? How long would he just leave him like that – trussed up like the sacrificial lamb of this month’s Long Island Messe Noire he  _almost_  was?

Sam was stripped bare and tied spread-eagled on his back over a cold granite altar in the basement of a mansion that stood in the middle of fucking nowhere. The thick nylon cords were painfully biting into his wrists and ankles and his head hurt from before when they’d knocked him out and his legs were starting to cramp and damn it he was hungry and what the fuck was his brother doing anyway?

“Dude, this isn’t funny anymore. Dean!!”

“You should have thought of that when you decided to play hero all on your lonesome, Sammy.”

Sam huffed, but was relieved to hear Dean’s voice floating from somewhere behind him, where he couldn’t see. “You were exhausted, and sleeping after so many nights, I didn’t wanna bother you!”

Dean snorted. “Oh yeah, sure! Done a bang-up job on that one.”

Oh alright, but he’d  _meant_  well. It wasn’t like they were hunting anything supernatural this time, just a cult of really twisted psychos. And he’d almost got them too, well… just before they got  _him_. Sam pouted and craned his neck backward to get a glimpse of his brother who was still standing guard at the single entrance to the basement. 

“Alright, so it didn’t go as I’d planned. But you got in here just in time so everything’s okay now right? Please just… untie me already?”

Dean simply ignored him and continued to secure the perimeter just in case the bastards were stupid enough to return.

The basement was quite large; a couple thousand square feet at least, enough to accommodate the cult of some twenty Satanists they’d been tracking for the last few days. It was lit up with at least two hundred black candles… dim and yet luminescent enough to reveal every gory little detail of the sexual orgy that would have transpired shortly after the rape, torture and heinous slaughter of the ‘chief guest’ of the ceremony. 

It started eight months ago. Every month they would abduct a young man or woman – someone not very likely to be missed, someone lean and tall and who’d look good without their clothes. This was where they’d bring them every full moon, to be sacrificed at the altar of Satan - the most powerful force in existence, and his time too shall fucking come. 

Clearly the irony wasn’t lost on either brother – one so-called ‘Antichrist’ being offered up in worship to another. No wonder it ended so badly for the sick screwballs. 

Dean had stormed in just in the nick of time when they were about to start the, umm…  _proceedings_. The first thing he did was shoot the brand new Bose sound system out. He never did like Ozzie. Then he’d shot at least four people (but not fatally) and beat the shit out of another six. But he was clearly outnumbered which is why he had the Plan B in place - the police siren he’d stolen on the way over. He rigged it up a few feet away to start blaring five minutes after he went in at the sound of which the whole bunch scrammed. 

Of course they were carrying guns as well and shot back at the rabid young man still giving chase. Dean had to take cover behind his beloved Impala, and all the time that his baby was taking the hits for him, Dean was swearing and cursing the hell out of one Sam Winchester. His little brother was  _so_  going to pay for this. 

So here they were, stuck in the Satanists’ basement because two tires of the Chevy were blown out and he only had one spare. Dean called up Bobby who said he’d take about two hours to get down there. Dean… was… seething. 

“Deaaaaaann!!” Sam groaned louder. Squirming this way and that to free himself, but in vain. 

Dean strode over the altar and bending over the helpless naked body, he glared into Sam’s eyes. He spoke in a deep, throaty whisper which told Sam that his brother was either really really furious, or really really horny. Or both.

“You scared the crap out of me, Sammy. You shouldn’t have gone after them alone and you know it. Consider this payback.”

Sam bit his lip, and tried whining again. “Okay, but… for how long?”

“Until Bobby gets here.”

“WHAT?!?” Sam’s high-pitched shriek made Dean wince and smirk at the same time. “You want him to see me like this?”

Dean bit his lip to hide his grin and put a hand on Sam’s quivering belly, rubbing small circles into it. “Well, that’d be the perfect icing on top won’t it? Let Bobby see how much you’re enjoying this.”

Sam screamed like an extremely indignant girl this time. “I am NOT enjoying this!!” 

“Oh really?”

Dean’s hand softly glided downwards from Sam’s stomach to his groin. Sam’s breath hitched in his throat and his body went completely taut. His dick, his… extremely stiff, undeniably aroused dick was practically standing at full mast. Dean’s fingers merely grazed against it, and it twitched violently. 

Fuck! How long had it been like that?

Dean chuckled. “You thought I couldn’t see it in the dark? Or did you really not know?”

“I… uhh… I…”

Dean’s hand closed around his shaft and all he could do was gasp. 

“Dean… ah!!!”

The older man started to slowly but firmly jack him off, his fist tight around Sam as it spanned the entire length from the base to the keenly weeping tip. The grip softened and tightened alternatingly and teased especially at the head where Dean knew Sam responded to the most. Sam whimpered in unabashed pleasure, arching up into the fist aching for more… 

“Fuck, don’t stop don’t… Oh!! Oh!!”

Dean obliged, giving Sam a really thorough hand job but not without making it last for longer than necessary. He’d stop every time he felt Sam getting close, until his little brother would whimper and start begging for Dean to finish him already. He kept it up for a good ten minutes, tickling and rolling the velvety sac in his other hand and finally when Sam was this close to start cursing at him in Latin, Dean let Sam have his release. Sam came with a loud, uninhibited scream.

Dean chuckled, looking at Sam’s face, bright red from the exertion, lips falling open panting wordlessly. How could he possibly resist? Dean bent over and covered that delectable mouth with his own. 

Sam closed his eyes and relaxed into the warm kiss, all the day’s excitement and fear finally draining away from his body, being steadily replaced with a feeling of security and love. His brother’s love. He knew he’d given Dean the scare of his life. Ghosts and angry spirits, Dean got. But people? People were just plain crazy.

Dean took Sam’s face in both his hands, caressing the mild sideburns and his little boy smooth jaw line as he carried on kissing his young lover passionately. Pouring both his relief and his anger into it, because he wasn’t yet done. He wasn’t nearly done. 

When he finally broke it off, Sam was still arching up for more. Dean kissed his forehead, his temples, his cheeks and his closed eyelids… every part of his face he could possibly reach until Sam started to duck away and chuckle. 

“Deaaaannnn… c’mon man, let me up already.”

Dean straightened up and leaned against the granite so he could still look down into Sam’s face and taunt him. “Nope.”

“What? Why?”

Dean smirked, casually reaching for Sam’s left nipple and tweaking it. “Because I like you like this, baby boy.”

Sam jerked at the sudden sensation.

“This is your best look you know… so frustrated and helpless, blushing from head to toe…”

Sam really did start to blush at that. 

“I love knowing how hot you are for me. All tied up and nowhere to go, nothing to do except wait for Dean to come rescue you, pleasure you… fuck the fucking fuck out of you…”

Sam moaned, the lust and the anticipation he felt was undeniable. His brother always did have such a way with dirty words. He swallowed hard, lips suddenly feeling dry and tried to resist it… resist giving in to Dean’s power-drunk seduction.

“What makes you think I wasn’t hard  _before_  you came?”

Dean started, narrowed his eyes at Sam and pulled slightly away. “Dude… are you seriously telling me this whole freak show turned you on?”

Sam couldn’t help the little laugh escaping his lips, Dean looked so humongously affronted. “Relax man, I’m just playing with you. Although they did… well…”

Sam bit his lip, not sure how to tell Dean. His big brother frowned immediately, concern darkening his face. “Sammy what happened? Did they…?” 

He couldn’t complete. The very thought of those bastards having hurt his baby brother was like a bullet to his heart and God if they hadn’t run away he would have…

“Dean, it’s okay. I’m fine! I promise.”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder squeezing it once, and looked into his eyes. “What did they do Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “Not much. This girl… she, she put something inside me.”

Dean got even more alarmed. “You mean…? Inside?  _Down there_  inside?”

Sam bit his lip and quickly nodded. “It’s still there I think, must be all broken up and soggy though…”

Dean’s frown deepened as he walked to the middle of the altar. After a couple seconds of scrutiny he decided to just get in there and figure out if Sam was serious or just yanking his chain. He sure didn’t look like he was joking. Sam winced as Dean’s fingers scoured his insides for a few seconds, until they bumped up against the weird arc-shaped pieces of… 

“Shit. Sam? Do you know what this is?”

Dean didn’t need to hear his response. Sam’s face said it all. “I have an idea. This whole ritual is what they call a Black Mass right?”

He winced pathetically as Dean finally pulled the small wafer pieces out of Sam’s anus. “Man…”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Good thing we’re not Catholic huh?”

“Uh… yeah.”

Dean threw away the desecrated piece of bread and looked down at Sam again. His face was a strange mix of creeped-out disgust, and even amusement, and a big sulky pout thrown in for good measure. He was surprised but glad to see Sam’s faith was not making this situation any more complicated than it needed to be.

“You okay there, baby boy?”

“Noooo…”

Dean didn’t know if he wanted to smack that stupid pout off his face or kiss him. “Want me to get you out of these bonds now?”

Sam turned sharply towards Dean, glared at him point blank. “Don’t you dare, you jerk. Fuck me first. Now!”

Dean got to work immediately. 

The first thing he did was untie Sam’s feet and Sam practically came from the joy of hearing his knees crack again. Dean quickly undressed, climbed onto the altar and crouched in between Sam’s endless legs. The lube was in the car so he had to make do with saliva alone. He licked two fingers of his right hand wet and slowly inserted one of them into Sam, wriggling and massaging until it could glide in and out with reasonable ease. Sam was always tight and it took a couple minutes before he could take in the second finger. Not that it mattered much to Sam at this point, he was hard again and desperate to have his brother inside him.

“Come on, Dean. Get on with it… before Bobby comes!”

Dean continued to finger fuck him leisurely, fondling Sam’s second erection of the night with his other hand. “Relax, baby boy. I just need to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

Sam sighed in exasperation. “Jesus! How long have we been doing this again? I keep telling ya, you won’t.”

Dean chuckled. “You know it’s probably blasphemous to be taking the Lord’s name in this place. You’ll offend the poor Devil.”

If looks could kill, Sam would have glared Dean down to his grave already. “Dude! If this is the altar of Satan, can you think of a better offering to the guy?”

Beat. 

“Good point.”

Dean used more spit to slick up his rock hard cock while keeping Sam distracted with another breath-sucking kiss. Then without further ceremony he sank into the warm, melting depths of perfect sin, also known as his brother, Sam Winchester. 

He kissed Sam. Everywhere he could, and Sam kissed him back, wrapping his legs around Dean. Soon he was digging his heels into the small of Dean’s back, squeezing him so tight Dean could barely breathe. Urging Dean to impale him deep, deeper… until there was no deeper left. They moved against each other, Sam gasping as his sweet spot was rigorously worked over, and the helplessness because of his hands still tied just added to the eroticism. 

“So good… oh yeah, right there. Fuck me, Fuck me Dean. Fuck me… fuck!!”

He moaned and mewled and implored Dean with constant words of encouragement to keep going and going and not stop. Never stop. Sam wanted this to never end.

Dean moaned in return, pulling out all the way just before thrusting back in again. He still couldn’t believe all the things that tumbled out of Sam’s mouth while they were having sex… he was usually so polite and so… politically correct otherwise. He squeezed one of Sam’s nipples again while with the other hand he started to jack him off. Pretty soon Sam was coming for a second time that night, and Dean followed closely right after. 

The Winchesters reveled in the aftermath of their mindblowing releases for a while, collapsing onto and into each other with no energy or motivation left to get up. After a few minutes though, Dean with his head still resting on Sam’s chest, spoke up.

“I’m so beat.”

“After the one time?”

Dean grunted back. “I haven’t slept in days dude, you said it yourself! Shut up!”

“Whatever you say, old man.” But Sam was chuckling softly, his chest heaving, his legs still loosely draped around Dean’s thighs. “So how much time do we have left?”

Dean looked at his watch. “Forty five minutes. Want me to undo the knots now?”

“…”

Dean raised his head and frowned. “Sammy?”

The younger brother licked his lips, and looked up to his left where his wrist was tied up. 

“See those big iron hoops right next to where the knots are?”

There was one on each side of Sam’s head. Dean narrowed his eyes at him. Sam tried to bite back the little grin playing on his lips. 

“I think… they’re meant for hooking up the ankles?”

Dean winced, his back starting to hurt. “Sammy…”

“Please Dean? It’d be fun. I saw it on pay per view!!”

That’s it. Dean Winchester was not going to take Sammy to any more Black Masses ever again. 

Well. Not for a week at least. 

 

***** END *****

**A/N: Do let me know what you think?**


End file.
